Her Songs For Him
by justonedimple
Summary: Hermione works in a bar as a singer. Her roommate comes to watch her perform one night, and finds out something he would rather not have known. ON HIATUS.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing but a crazy obsession with Draco Malfoy. Problem? I hope not.

**A/N:** Okay, so I am a horrible, terrible person for starting a new story AGAIN. This one has been niggling in the back of my mind since last week. And I won't be updating very often anymore, because Term 4 of school has just started up again. And homework and study is crazy. But, I promise this one is only short. I hope it will be under ten chapters… But who knows? For now, enjoy.

**Smitty.**

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The blonde shifted in his sleep, disturbed by the rustling of fabric and the intense beam of sunlight that radiated through the window of his two-story house. His roommate, a crazy brunette with a mass of untamable curls towered over him and his eyelids fluttered open delicately.

"What, Hermione? Why do you wake me up this early?" he grunted, irritation seeping into his sleepy, and husky voice.

"Early? Dear Lord, Draco." she sighed. "It's five o'clock, in the evening."

"Damn." he elongated the monosyllable, as his arm rose to cover his brow. A pretty woman dressed in a silky, black dress that was modest but alluring came into focus. A small smile grace her delicate features and he smiled.

She got up and headed to the kitchen to retrieve a hangover potion, and to avoid melting at his crooked and incredibly endearing smile.

"What happened last night?" she asked, concern in her eyes - even though he couldn't see.

"Nothing, the usual. She asked me a few things about out relationship," Hermione's heart sank into her stomach, "and then we got into a bit of a fight. I went to the bar with Blaise. Then she found me - Ginny told her where Blaise and I had gone - and apologised. Then we made up."

Hermione knew _exactly _what he meant by that.

"Ah."

Turning around, with the intentions of returning to the lounge where he had collapsed, she was surprised to step into a large, muscular wall of some sort.

Opening her eyes, she came face to face – well, face to chest – with the cause of her heartache. Inhaling deeply, and having a hard time trying to stop her knees from buckling at the scent of his expensive cologne, she took a large step back and held the vial of purple liquid in front of his face.

He chuckled. "You know, Hermione, I never seem to get used to how short you are."

Slapping his chest with as much force as she could muster – which obviously wasn't much, as he didn't even flinch – she side-stepped him and meandered up the stairs.

"Where are you going, now?" She turned to see him leaning against the banister, a curious expression on his Adonis, god-like, perfect features. She had to catch herself, for she knew if she admired him for too long, he would catch on.

And that was the thing she was most afraid of in the world – not Voldemort and not even Bellatrix Lestrange. Him catching on to her feelings, her love for him.

"Upstairs." she smiled cheekily. "Where else?"

"For what?"

"Uh, shoes…" she lifted her bare foot off the stairs and waved it around the air.

"Well, don't let me hold you back. Oh, are you singing tonight?'

"I would never let you hold me back, Drakey…" she used his least favourite nickname – given to him by his high-school girlfriend, Pansy Parkinson – and giggled when he shuddered. "And it's Saturday, is it not? Yes? Then, I am singing."

Hermione had discovered a love of singing after a night of drunken karaoke at the Leaky Cauldron. She then took up a regular and well-paying job at a bar not far from where Draco and herself lived, singing every night except Sundays. Draco had never seen her perform, and she knew that tonight was his office's annual Christmas party so, without a doubt, it would be no different from any other Saturday that she spent singing on a dark stage without a familiar face in the audience.

"Good. Well, go on! Shoo…." he laughed goofily. "Get it? Shoo? As in _shoe_?"

Hermione gave a half-hearted laugh and shook her head as she climbed the remaining few stairs and disappeared into her bedroom.

Draco waited on the lounge, downed the potion in one foul swoop, and when she emerged five minutes later looking gorgeous – as she always did, according to Draco – with the pair of black shoes he had bought her for her 23rd birthday, he winked and said, "Looking good, Granger…"

"Seedy, Malfoy." she replied with a wink of her own. "Now, let's go. I have to be there in five minutes."

Grabbing his extended arm, she felt the familiar pull at her navel, and a few seconds later she arrived with a sharp crack outside her work.

She turned to face Draco, and kissed his cheek. "See you after work?"

"8:30, yes?"

She nodded in the affirmative and he smiled and disappeared with another tell-tale crack.

She sighed heavily and trudged into the bar, preparing for another night of singing.

* * *

Draco appeared in the alley way beside Hermione's work, and quickly tapped his head twice with his wand. Feeling the familiar trickle of the disillusionment charm running down his spine, he crept from the alley and walked confidently through the doors of the popular bar, but not before ensuring that no-one was watching.

Sitting down in a chair in the very far corner of the relaxation and entertainment area, he surveyed his surroundings with disinterest. He couldn't help but feel that he would rather be at his work's Christmas party instead of here, but he decided that, since he had never seen Hermione perform, he would surprise her by watching her show.

Suddenly, Hermione walked silently on to the stage and glanced at the audience before her. She smiled and announced her first set of songs for the evening, and smiled at the guitarist seated on a stool behind her, signaling she was ready to begin.

Two more sets of songs began and ended, and, thinking that the show was over, Draco was just about to remove his invisibility charm, when Hermione walked up to the microphone and began to speak.

"Okay, now we have a new section. I will be singing a few songs of my choice, and then we will have some audience suggestions. Rightio." she smiled. "This one is my favourite song, and it has a lot of relevance to my life right now. So I hope you enjoy it – this is _On My Own_ from _Les Miserables_."

And then she began to sing.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything but the plot. Please note that this disclaimer will be the one that carries on for the rest of this story – it does get rather repetitive when you say it over and over again.

**A/N: **Okay, so there was a little glitch with my consistency regarding Draco's attendance to Hermione's shows (that's what you get for writing at 1:00 at night) but thanks to a couple of reminders from reviewers that has been fixed. And now it's _all better_. ENJOY!

**Smitty.**

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Draco edged forward on his chair, and unconsciously leant forward in anticipation as Hermione took a tentative step towards the silver microphone placed in the centre of the small stage.

He watched intently as she took a deep breath and opened her mouth to let the melody flow.

_On my own  
Pretending he's beside me  
All alone  
I walk with him 'til morning_

She smiled briefly at a raven-haired woman in the front few tables who, listening to the melodious voice, leant into her boyfriend or husband's embrace. Hermione felt a brief twang in her heart as she imagined herself leaning into Draco's comforting arms.

_Without him, I feel his arms around me  
And when I lose my way, I close my eyes and he has found me_

She closed her eyes, and imagined his face, smiling as she gave him his morning coffee.

_In the rain  
The pavement shines like silver  
All the lights are misty in the river  
In the darkness, the__ trees __are full of starlight  
And all I see is him and me forever and forever_

Forever. Yeah, right.

She had no future without him… He was – how did Astoria put it? – ah yes, _eternally devoted _to his beloved girlfriend of two and a half years, Astoria Greengrass.

_And I know it's only in my mind  
That I'm talking to myself and not to him_

Hermione re-opened her eyes and narrowed her eyes slightly to avoid the overwhelming glare from the spotlight shining down upon her.

As she sang, she couldn't help but realize and note the relevance of the song's lyrics to her feelings toward her gorgeous roommate.

_And although I know that he is blind  
Still I say there's a way for us  
_

Blind? More like lacking in all five senses. Hermione didn't understand exactly how daft one man could be. Sure, he was kind and charming, attentive and intuitive towards women, but Hermione wasn't _a woman, _she was his roommate. And that's all she would ever be.

_I__ love __him  
But when the night is over  
He is gone  
The river's just a river  
Without him, the world around me changes  
The__ trees __are bare and everywhere the streets are full of strangers  
_

Staring out at the audience, and sweeping her sight across the few tables they had set up, she found no familiar faces. Not that she expected any-one, anyway.

She refrained from gasping as she realized that she had, in fact, been expecting someone. Draco… She internally shook her head and continued with a strength in her voice that betrayed none of her internal emotions.

_I__ love __him  
But every day I'm learning  
All my life I've only been pretending  
Without me, his world will go on turning  
The world is full of happiness that I have never known_

How could she be happy when she was suffering? Not physical, but emotional. The worst kind of emotional suffering that existed – unrequited love. And she knew, sadly, that nothing would ever evolve from their relationship and the heartache could only dull until she could barely feel it. She'd been through the same with Ron. And now Draco – her heart broke in two just thinking about him.

Draco did not know, but she had seen the black velvet box hidden in the top drawer of his bedside when she was looking for one of her many lost books. He also did not know how she had cried herself to sleep every night for three weeks after that – and how she reprimanded herself time and time again, only to break down once more.

And he would never know how hard it was for her to face him when he came from one of the many outings he accompanied Astoria on, or how hard it was for her to read the Daily Prophet every morning because she feared she might see an engagement announcement with his name featured next to the generic image of two rings being bound by a golden thread emitted from a wand held above them.

He would never know that every song she had ever sung, was sung for him. Because, for the millionth time in her life, she was alone.

_I love him  
I love him  
I love him...  
But only on my own..._

_

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_

Glancing at his Rolex (a gift from Hermione), he noted that it was 8:30 – Hermione's finishing time.

Returning his steely-orbed gaze to the stage area, he looked for any signs of the brunette who had sung so beautifully not two minutes ago – but she was nowhere.

He hopped up from his chair and trudged out into the chilly night air, rubbing his hands together to stop the cold air biting his hands ruthlessly. Turning around to face the front wall of the building, he saw a Hermione-shaped mass, that was only just visible through the slightly tinted windows of the pub, sit down at a table nearest where he stood, and Draco – quenching his curious thirst – inched nearer to the window pane closest to said table. Whipping out his wand, he muttered "_Audio Specialis Revelio" _and the voice of his mild-mannered friend projected to where he stood, and thankfully he had restricted it to be heard by him and only him – he was a gentleman when it came to privacy.

"So, dear. Are you going to tell little old me who that song was being sung for?" came the voice of an older woman, who Draco could now see was sitting across from Hermione.

"Uh- Well- Maggie, what are you talking about? I didn't sing it for anyone in _particular_." Hermione lied through her teeth.

"I don't believe you." came the blunt reply of this Maggie lady.

"Okay, so maybe it was someone. But it doesn't really matter anymore." Hermione admitted, and Draco's ears pricked at the new information.

"_Who would Hermione be singing it for?" _he mused. _"She would tell me if she was even _mildly _interested in someone….Wouldn't she?"_

"Who, darling? Someone once told me it is easier to deal with such things as unrequited love if you have a confidant."

"Well, alright…" she paused. After a few moments of gut-wrenching anticipation on Draco's end, nervous thought-twisting on Hermione's end, and patient, quiet understanding on Maggie's, Hermione spoke. "It's my roommate."

"_Her roommate. Her roomma- Oh dear God." _he panicked. _"That's me. I'm her roommate…"_

"And?" Maggie prompted.

Hermione opened her mouth, and Draco pressed his ear against the glass in a fruitless attempt to hear more clearly.

Hermione's voice shook with evident nerves and tears stung her eyes as she came to the most heart-breaking realization she had ever heard of or experienced.

From her mouth, three words were uttered. Three words Draco wished he'd never heard.

"I love him."

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**Review? x**

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	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **WOW. Fourteen reviews for two chapters? I love you people!  
Anyway, like I said, the disclaimers for chapters one and two now apply for every chapter. I don't want to get sued. *laughs* Anywhooselbees – back to the story. A couple of reviewers wanted background information on Draco and Hermione's current living situation, so I have _TRIED. _Key word being "tried." Tell me if it's utter crap…?

Enjoy.

**Smitty.

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Draco hurried home as quickly as his long, robe-covered legs would carry him. As he reached the maroon door of his shared home, complete with a shining silver door knob and extra lock (a compromise Hermione and he had agreed upon), he was too confused and stressed to fish through the pockets of his robes, and then, if it wasn't there, he would have to search though the pockets of his pants, to find the small key that would provoke the familiar click of the lock opening, so pulled out his 12 inch wand and muttered _"Alohomora." _hastily before barging through the living room and up the stairs to his bedroom – third door on the right, and right opposite Hermione's.

"_I must stop thinking about her. It makes everything more difficult. Goddamnit, Mione, why?" _he screamed, internally of course.

Slowing his pace as he reached the window that faced the small lake in the field to the left of the house, he whistled and a brown speck flew elegantly closer, until it was discernable as an owl. The brown and white speckled owl land gracefully on a flimsy branch from the old oak tree that Hermione loved so much. It was why she had originally been attracted to this house. _"Stop thinking about her."_

He scribbled a quick message to Hermione that read, "_Hermione, I'm at home. Sorry I couldn't pick you up." _and sent it with the bird that was now insistently hooting in his ear.

Tying the furled parchment to the bird's leg, and watched dismally as it soared majestically in the general direction of its intended destination. Stepping backwards blindly, he sunk down on to the green comforter of his double bed – Slytherin through and through, as he had always been – and ran his pale, slender hands through his artfully messed blonde hair.

He swung his long legs onto the bed gracefully and his head hit the pillow with an _oomph! _He lifted his so his arms could fold themselves underneath it, and when his head was raised enough, he looked around his room. He thought back to the day when Hermione and he had come to be roommates.

* * *

_Hermione was hurrying down the street, eager to peruse through the house for lease on Millerick Drive. She thought it was perfect from what she had seen in the advertisement, and it was close enough to where she worked, at a quaint café around the corner. Suddenly, she ran into a large, solid object and felt herself tumbling backwards. Two long arms snaked around her waist and lifted her upright. She found herself facing a broad chest covered with a light blue dress shirt and a black tie. Lifting her eyes to thank the person, who, she noticed with a light blush, still had their arms wrapped firmly around her midsection. _

_The stormy grey eyes that she met rendered speechless for a few seconds before a deep, husky and – dare she say it? – rather sexy voice said, "Granger?"_

_Stepping back she gasped, and whispered breathlessly at the pale, handsome face before her, "Malfoy?"_

"_The one and only. Now, pray tell, my little Gryffindor Princess, what brings you to 6 Millerick Drive this fine evening?"_

"_Oh, I'm _your _Gryffindor Princess now, am I?" Hermione questioned sarcastically and she noted that the house which she and Draco now stood in front of was the house she had come to look at…_

_When he nodded enthusiastically, she giggled and smiled at him. He returned a breath-taking smile of his own. _

"_Well, if you must know," she started, when she had torn her gaze from his beautiful eyes, "I am looking to rent it out."_

"_It's expensive." he said bluntly. _

"_How expensive?" she queried._

"_400 galleons a month."_

_She felt her heart sink; she could only afford 200 per month. "Damn."_

"_I know – I can only afford 200 galleons a month." When she gave him a questioning look, he clarified, "Father spent most of it on a new manor for Mother."_

_Ah, Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy. At first she thought that they were pure evil, but after Harry had testified at Draco and Narcissa's joint court hearing, she had begun to see them in a new light. Lucius, however, remained evil in her eyes._

"_Oh, fair enough. I can only afford 200, as well." she sighed. "Well, Malfoy. It was good to see you, but I have to go look for a new house." _

_She went to turn around and waved a hand in a goodbye salute when she felt a strong hand grip her shoulder and turn her around. _

"_Say, Granger?" he began._

"_Yes, Draco?" she said cautiously._

_He chuckled. She raised an eyebrow at the melodious sound. "You called me Draco. But that's not what I wanted to say… Do you want to be my roomie?"_

_She laughed. "Are – you – serious?" she managed to gasp out. "Your _roomie?_"_

"_Of course. The rent is four hundred. You have two hundred as do I. Do the math." he said, no emotion displayed on his handsome features. _

"_Sure." she blurted out, before she could stop herself. Cursing herself inwardly, she snuck a timid glance at Draco – and was pleasantly surprised that he was grinning like a madman. Taking her arm, he walked up the cemented drive and knocked on the door. A man answered with a small child behind him and invited them inside. _

_Two weeks later, both of them had moved all of their possessions into the two bedroom house and had come to accept each other rather well.

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_

Draco sighed heavily and rubbed his eyes with the palm of his hand. How could this happen? Hermione loving him? Not possible.

He _never _wanted that to happen. I mean, he was going to propose to Astoria at Monday's dinner – in front of Hermione and her friends, as well.

Sitting up swiftly, and after recovering from a minor dizzy spell, he exited his room and crossed the hall into Hermione's unlocked bedroom. He strode purposefully to the bedside table on the right of her golden-covered bed and opened the first drawer. He proceeded to rifle through the drawer until he found and pulled out a small, black, leather-bound book. Her diary.

He skipped through the worn pages, until the words "black velvet box" caught his eye. _Surely_, she couldn't have found it?

He read the page thoroughly.

_Diary, _

_Nothing too eventful happened today. I avoided Draco all day because I didn't want him to see me. I don't think I could handle it after what I found. _

_I never mentioned that yesterday, did I? I guess I was trying to convince myself it wasn't real. I found a black velvet box._

_A BLACK VELVET BOX!_

He could tell she was crying by this point; the ink was blotchy with tearstains.

_Well, I avoided him all today because I was sure that if I saw him I would burst into tears, much like last night. I cried myself to sleep. Is that stupid? It seems a bit silly. He doesn't love me, never will. _

_I should be happy for him, right? But I just can't! It's so hard to be happy for someone that you love with all your heart when they are getting engaged to another woman. But they are perfect for each other, you know? Pure-blooded, aristocratic and beautiful. Everything I'm not._

_Well, he's home. I better go. _

_Hermione. _

Sweet Jesus... Whoever that was. Hermione seemed to say that a lot, and it caught on, obviously.

He felt so guilty. He was going to break her heart, and he couldn't do anything about it. He didn't love her, not like he loved Astoria.

That thought made his heart sink into the ground. Hermione, the person he counted as his best friend – they had some sort of bond that not even he and Astoria shared. He always wondered whether Hermione returned his feelings.

Now he knew. She returned them, but much, much more than he ever could.

A sharp crack outside alerted him to Hermione's return, and he scurried out into the lounge room and seated himself, as best he could, in a relaxed position. The doorknob jiggled and he gave up trying to act normally – he just sat up and leant his head against the back of the couch, but he was unable to get the nervous, sad and anxious expression off his face.

* * *

Hermione opened up the door, still rather confused at Draco's letter. She took one last sparing glance at the beautiful sunset and stepped inside the house.

She shut the door and turned to face the man sitting on the lounge with a large smile on her face at the prospect of seeing his joyful expression. What she found, however, was the opposite.

She was confronted with a tense and tightly strung Draco, with an unreadable expression on his face. She walked closer rather silently, and when he brought his head down to face her, she noticed fresh, salty tear tracks down his alabaster cheeks.

Rushing over to his side – a little too eagerly, he noticed, for _just a friend _ - she wiped his cheeks gently and hugged him, wrapping her small arms around his midsection – he was hit with a crazy sense of déjà vu. He hadn't noticed until she wiped his cheeks that he was actually crying. Crying over the petite woman he was now holding in his arms.

She lifted her head from the crook of his neck and said, "Dray, what's wrong?"

"I can't do this."

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**Review? Smitty x**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: **Okay, so a lot of people are hoping it has a happy ending. I can't promise that. Unfortunately, as much as I love Dramione – which is a _whole lot _– I just don't see this fanfiction heading in that direction. I have a lot of ideas – and there aren't that many that could proceed to a happily ever after.

Aside from that, enjoy this chapter. It will be the last for at least three or four days – I have mad homework issues.

This one is for Smiggle, 'because she's cool like that.

**PS. **Keep dreaming, Smiggle. Your dreams are _wicked._

**Smitty.

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"_I can't do this."_

Confusion fleeted across Hermione's chocolate coloured orbs.

"You can't do what, Draco?" she questioned, her mind whizzing through all the horrible scenarios that could evolve from a conversation such as this, "I don't understand."

Draco turned his head away, and she gently placed a dainty hand underneath his chin and forced him to look into her eyes.

Both waited a moment, before Draco opened his mouth, "This arrangement. I can't do it anymore." he whispered, so quietly Hermione strained herself to hear him properly.

Hermione's heart sunk. "What arrangement? Are you talking about Astoria?"

He shook his head. Hermione still didn't get it.

"_Why doesn't she understand?! ARGH. I can't do this, I can't do this." _ he chanted in his mind, over and over and over.

"This," he waved his index finger back and forth between them, "This arrangement. It's not working." He figured a blunt approach would be much easier.

"Draco Abraxus Malfoy. If you are going to pull this shit," his eyes widened, Hermione only ever cussed when she was extremely upset or angry, "with me now – after _two years _of living together in perfect harmony, then you have got _another damn thing coming._"

Replacing his surprised expression with one filled with malice, he hissed, "Look, Granger," she winced, "I don't want to live here anymore. I have much better things to do with my life than just going to work, picking your lazy ass up from work and then coming back to this dump to sleep the night before getting up and doing it all again. Okay?"

He watched wistfully as her eyes glazed over with unshed tears. He knew he shouldn't put her through this, not with what he had just learnt, but he had to. It was the only way. He racked his mind for a different solution, but couldn't find one, so he did the thing he had always done – the thing that two of the most important people in Hermione's life had told him not to do when he dropped the 'moving out' bombshell. He distanced himself from her to _hopefully _make things simpler.

A croaky and muffled, "I can't believe this." brought him back from whatever mental place he had gone.

He looked next to him on the lounge to see Hermione, head buried in her small hands. This is what they said would happen.

Subconsciously, he reached out to touch her shoulder in what he hoped was a comforting manner, but before his hand made contact with the tan expanse of skin, he retracted it and remembered the reason for her distress. Standing up, he glanced at her trembling form.

"I'll be gone by the morning. Mudblood." he added for good measure. Another wince, but this time he could not see her face, merely her body movements – a slight cringing of the shoulders.

She slowly raised her eyes to meet his, and her whole head followed, snapping up viciously, however, nothing could prepare him for the gut-wrenching, heart-destroying, _utterly vacant _facial expression plastered on her usually vibrant and expressive features (it was rather un-nerving). But her eyes, her beautiful eyes. They betrayed her stoic expression and her carefully guarded feelings, and he saw all the unadulterated anguish and pain unleashed furiously within the swirling hazelnut irises.

"If that is what you want." She was surprised at the steady confidence her voice belayed.

He nodded mechanically, and turned sharply on his heel. He had reached the bottom of the stairs, on the way to pack his belongings to leave, when he looked over his shoulder. She was still sitting on the cream chaise sofa, staring blankly at the wall.

"Y-Y-You are still welcome to dinner on Monday night, uh, that-that's if you want to come." he stammered, unsure as to why his cool confidence faltered when discussing what would most likely be the most important day of his life.

Not bothering to acknowledge him, she simply stood up and reached over to grab her forgotten handbag, lying on the floor. Without a single sound, she walked back through the door and Draco heard a sharp crack, signaling her departure from their doorstep.

Running his fingers through his mussed hair, he clambered laboriously up the wooden stairs, the weight of his decision now fully pressing down on his slouched shoulders. He had made the right decision, hadn't he? It was better to break her heart in private than in public, better than in front of all her friends. Wasn't it?

He wasn't so sure anymore.

* * *

She didn't know where she was going until she had knocked on the door of Potter Cottage. A very pregnant Ginny could be heard waddling toward the door and, with much difficulty, she had managed to open the door – only to reveal a disheveled, distraught and sobbing Hermione Granger.

She had finally allowed the tears she had fought to hold back in her apartment to flow freely from her puffy, red and painfully stinging eyes.

"Oh Lord. _Harry!_ _It's happened._" the fiery red-headed yelled.

Soon enough, a messy-haired Harry appeared next to Ginny, his glasses askew. One glance at the brunette standing on the other side of the door frame though, and he had whisked her inside and sat her down on their comfortable black leather lounge. That's what she loved about Harry. He never pried, unless he felt it totally necessary, and comforted without a second thought.

"I'll be right back, Hermione." She barely registered the disappearance of the man, she could only think of the conversation that her and Dra – No. He wasn't Draco anymore, he was Malfoy.

He, Malfoy, had called her a Mudblood. She couldn't imagine a more intense pain than what she had felt at that moment. She curled into a ball and nestled her head sideways on top of her knees.

She then heard frantic whispers begin in the kitchen area of the Potter home, and closed her eyes. She heard, _"I told him not to. I told him that if he moved out that he would crush her into a bazillion pieces. He's a fool. And she loves him."_

That was obviously Ginny. She was the only other person she had ever told about her feelings for the blonde, pasty white man who was now packing his belongings. A fresh torrent of tears spiraled down her flushed cheeks, unrelenting rivulets of salt-water that stung at her wind-bitten face and nose, at the prospect of returning home. Home – she couldn't see it as a home without him anymore. She had grown accustomed to his presence and an odd melancholy sense of loneliness crashed down upon her.

Suddenly, she felt a warm hand on her back and the portion of the lounge sink down with the weight of the darker of her two best male friends. Or it could have been Ginny… With all the weight of her pregnancy, who knew?

A different, smaller hand – she had no doubt that it was Ginny sitting across from her now, and that it was Harry next to her – placed itself gently on her knee and began to rub comforting circles on the skin.

"You want to talk?"

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**Review? Smitty.**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: **Okay, I know I said that I wouldn't be updating for a while, but it's a Friday night and I have nothing better to do.

Yeah, I'm that geeky.

So….. Enjoy.

**Smitty.

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"_You want to talk?"_

Hermione slid her hands down her blotchy face so she could see over the tips of her tear-drenched fingertips. "I'm going crazy, aren't I?"

Ginny's eyes widened and she voraciously shook her head, her sleek, red mane flying every which way, each flurry of colour emphasizing her opinion. Harry's arm snaked its way to the other side of her and he grasped her arm tightly and pulled her in for an awkward, but wonderfully comfortable and familiar hug.

Harry placed a friendly kiss on the top of her disheveled mane. "Not at all, Hermione. Don't you even _think _that for one more second."

She looked up into Harry's bottle-green, sparkling eyes and tried to smile. By Harry's sympathetic glance towards her, then his worried look at his wife, she knew it had looked as false as it had felt.

She couldn't smile at a time like this. Her heart was hollow, only beating to pump the vital red liquid through her veins. There was no real fulfillment, there couldn't be. Not when he hated her.

Fresh tears followed the thought and she buried her face into Harry's broad chest and he allowed her tears to soak through his simple cotton singlet.

"Okay, Hermione. People always told me it was easier to deal with these things if you have a confidant."

Hermione let out a bark of somewhat deranged laughter. "So I've been told."

Rubbing his hand comfortingly up and down the length of her left arm, Harry said, "Seriously, Mione."

She knew from the sound of his voice that he was actually serious this time.

She sighed heavily, it was now or never. "To be honest, I don't know. We arranged for him to pick me up at 8:30, as usual. Then I get this owl saying that he couldn't pick me up – but that he was at home. So I went home, and he was sitting on the lounge with this weird expression and he had just been crying. So I did the first thing that came to mind – I ran over to him and hugged him and asked what was wrong."

Her voice cracked. "He said that he 'couldn't do this'. I didn't get it, so I prodded a bit and then he went into a full-blown rage – started saying that he had better things to do than live the way we have been living for two years. So I started to get a little mad and said a few things… I may or may not have cursed a bit, but I'm allowed to, right? _Right?_"

Looking at Ginny for an affirmation, she only continued when the redhead moved her head so minutely that if Hermione hadn't been looking closely at her, she would have missed it.

"Then…. then he called me a… a…." She started to cry. "A Mudblood."

Ginny gasped and felt her eyes well with tears for her broken best friend. Draco Malfoy said all of that to her? Impossible… He was so kind to them after the war, I mean, he was one of the 'Herculean Six', as they had been dubbed by the community, as was the newest addition to the group Blaise – Draco's other best friend. Ginny and Blaise had always been on civil terms, so she had obviously been more understanding of his decision to remain neutral during the Second Great War. It had taken the boys a little while longer, but now all six where essentially best friends.

Harry, however, looked murderous. Glancing at Hermione's hunched over form, he heard soft snores emitted from the brunette whose head was resting delicately on his shoulder and so he picked Hermione up and walked into the spare bedroom of the cottage. He placed her gently on the Queen bed in the centre of the room and walked silently out the door and back into the living area.

"How could he do that?" he whispered furiously.

"Look, darling, there has to be a legitimate reason as to why he said all those things to her. Whether it was in spite of his better judgement remains to be seen." Ginny soothed and she glanced anxiously at the front door.

Catching this glance, Harry queried, "Are we expecting someone, Gin?"

"Well, I have a strange feeling Blaise will be here soon. Called it maternal instincts or whatever you wish, I just know."

On cue, the door burst open and a harried Blaise Zabini strode into the living room, and huffed. "What on God's green earth was he thinking?"

"Blaise, what happened?" questioned both Potters, both already knowing – and dreading – what he was about to say.

"He's off his rocker. He really is. He knows about Hermione loving him."

"_What?!" _ screeched Ginny.

"Yep. Now, shhhhhh. If I'm not mistaken, Hermione is in that room sleeping, is she not?"

Nodding warily, Ginny raised an eyebrow at Blaise. Blaise clarified, "We can't talk here."

Ginny led them outside to the patio and entertainment area. When Harry and Blaise were seated, Ginny remained standing and said "Are you going to tell us how? Wait, no. When?"

"I'll tell you if you sit down," Ginny seated herself beside her husband on the plastic chair and waited, "Okay, get this…"

* * *

_Draco had just finished packing his belongings, and had charmed his trunk to expand according to how much he was taking. He glanced once more around the living room and made sure everything was in order and that all his belongings were safely packed into the trunk lying sideways next to him. Nodding to himself, he picked up his trunk by the handle and turned on the spot. _

_Two seconds later he appeared in the reclining area of the Zabini Manor. He brushed imaginary dust and dirt from his clothes – a habit he had picked up from his father – and turned to see a disgruntled, sleepy Blaise Zabini facing him, wand extended and held between Draco's eyes. _

_He waited until Blaise removed his wand from its threatening position, and trudged over to the grey, velvet lounge. _

"_I don't mean to be rude, man, but why are you here?" Blaise groaned, rubbing his tanned forehead with his index finger and thumb. _

"_I'm moving out."_

"_Of where you live?"_

_Draco gave him an annoyed and exasperated glare. "No, you douche. Out of this galaxy…. Yes, out of where I live."_

"_Can I ask why, perhaps?" Blaise prodded, ignoring the sarcasm dripping from Draco's words._

_Blunt and straightforward, his blonde counterpart said, "Hermione's in love with me."_

_Acting like this was a shock, Blaise sunk down into his chair, leant his head back against the cushiony material and said, "So, what are you going to do?"_

"_I'm going to cut off all ties with her. It's the easiest way."_

"_For her or for you?" _

_Draco expected the answer to slip right out of his mouth with ease, but the way Blaise had said it – not condescendingly or sarcastically, but with genuine concern and curiosity – had him stumped. Was he really doing it to help himself, or was his concern Hermione?_

_He had no idea. _

"_I don't know." _

"_How did you find out?" Blaise asked, genuinely curious this time around. _

_Draco rummaged through the separate backpack he had brought with him and pulled out a small book. "Her diary." He held it out to Blaise._

_Blaise opened the leather bound cover and skimmed through the pages. He stopped wide-eyed at the page that had caught Draco's eye not an hour prior._

"_She found the ring." Blaise whispered. "And she loves you."_

_Draco could only nod. _

"_How could you not have known she loved you, you idiot?"_

"_Hey! I only found out about this when I went to pick her up from work."_

"_Huh?" was his dim-witted, monosyllabic reply._

"_I went to pick her up from work, and she was having a conversation with this co-worker, and so I did a little spell-work and she told this old lady that she was in love with her roommate – that's me. So I went home and read through that," he pointed to the book that was discarded on the glass table, "Then we got into a big argument, she left to go somewhere – Potter's I expect – so I packed my things," he gestured to his trunk and backpack, "and bippity-boppity-boo, here we are."_

_Blaise knew he had to talk to Harry and Ginny, so he tried to get Draco to leave the room as quickly as possible so he could Apparate away. _

"_Look. You can stay here, and you must be tired, so go get some sleep. Up two flights of stairs, and turn right, then left again. The guest room is the fourteenth door on the left." Blaise grimaced._

_Draco acquiesced and trudged his way up the stairs. As soon as Blaise felt he was out of ear-shot, he apparated to the doorstep of Ginny and Harry Potter.

* * *

_

"… And so here we are."

Nobody spoke.

* * *

**Review? Smitty.**

* * *


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: **I am terribly sorry for not updating as quickly as I could, but homework got the better of me. I had mad writer's block for this chapter as well, and I wasn't really sure whether I should continue this for a while. But, for now enjoy this… It might the last for a little while longer.

Oh, and credit for the Blaise/Hermione situation goes to MisZHPLoVeR… I thank her muchly.

**Smitty.

* * *

**

"… _And so here we are."_

_Nobody spoke. _

Ginny had her head in her hands and was shaking her red mane back and forth sullenly, while Harry absent-mindedly rubbed soothing circles on her lower back.

Blaise looked quizzically at Ginny, and then looked at Harry for an explanation to his fiancés distressed behaviour. Harry simply wrapped his strong arms around the girl and pulled her in closer. Placing a soft kiss on her head, he pulled her up to face him and said, "I'm going to talk to Blaise in the kitchen for a second, okay?"

When Ginny nodded, he stood up and beckoned for Blaise to follow him as he stalked into the kitchen and whirled around to face the darker of the two.

They stood there for a few moments, Blaise waiting for Harry to begin, while Harry was waiting for Blaise to ask him the tirade of questions he knew where whirling in his head.

Blaise broke the silence with the simplest question he could think of. "Why is Gin so upset?"

"Well, think about it. She's worried about Hermione, of course. How many times has Hermione been through this kind of thing before? You know… Loving someone when they love someone else?"

Blaise shrugged. "Um, twice?"

Harry shook his head morbidly. "Nope. Four times."

Blaise's eyes widened dramatically, "With whom?"

"First it was Ron. Then she was in love with Joey and Darren after that. They got married in a joint wedding about four months ago."

"And now it's Draco." Blaise didn't need to hear him say anything else.

"She can't help who she falls in love with. None of us can." Harry said. "Come on, I don't want to leave Ginny too long, who knows what she might do…"

Walking back out to where Ginny was still seated, they sat down and Harry laid his hands on the table.

"He's marrying her. We can't convince him not to." Ginny mumbled from where he head was laid on her crossed arms on the table.

Harry was appalled. "How on this green earth– _Merlin!_ How can you say that?"

"It's true." At Harry's glare, Blaise clarified rather forcefully. "I've already tried, Harry."

Stunned into silence, the three sat together for a while in awkward, noiseless company.

Not long after Ginny had sighed for the fourteenth time, a timid "Hey." was heard from the back door.

Blaise, Ginny and Harry snapped their heads up to face the puffy-eyed and messy-haired brunette that had emerged from the darkened room that she had woken up in.

"Hermione!"

The red-head embraced Hermione fiercely. "Ginny, let the girl breathe." said Harry, mirth seeping through into his lilting voice.

"Hello there, princess." said Blaise, smiling widely.

Hermione had been the first to forgive Blaise for his Muggleborn prejudices after the Second Great War and so Blaise felt a special bond with the girl he once taunted with derogatory names. The nickname 'princess' came from Blaise's code name for her when they were in school – Mudblood Princess (which later evolved into Muggleborn Princess) – and she always seemed to smile when she heard him call her by his favourite nickname for her.

"Blaise!" Hermione looked over her shoulder and saw him beaming at her. She broke away from the vice-grip that Ginny had around her and flung herself into the comfort of the Italian's arms.

He felt her smile into his neck and his heart skipped a few beats. He couldn't help it; she was everything he had ever wanted in a woman. Subtle beauty, intelligence and a kind heart – Hermione had all of them.

She squeezed him tightly and then extracted herself from around him. He looked into her caramel coloured orbs that swirled with a mixture of unreadable emotions and he lost the question that was on the tip of his tongue only seconds ago.

Snapping his eyes from her penetrating gaze, he recovered the lost enquiry and gulped, "Are you okay, princess?"

Her eyes filled with sadness and tears, and she lowered her head so that her hair covered her face. "Yeah, I guess."

Seeing her so upset made Blaise feel like cursing his best friend into oblivion, but he worked hard to keep the anger from marring his features and he succeeded. Pulling her back into the house, and making sure Harry and Ginny followed, he plonked himself and Hermione onto the lounge and she lay down with her head in his lap. He stroked her curly hair fondly, savouring the silky feel as it ran through his fingertips.

"I don't know what to do." Hermione confessed, breaking the seemingly comfortable silence that had evolved since they had re-entered the house.

Harry, using rare words of wisdom, advised, "You need to talk this out with him."

"And how, Harry James Potter, do you suggest I do that?" Hermione raised her voice as she sat up from her position and glared at the raven boy across from her, who was visibly shocked at her uncharacteristic outburst. Her voice softened significantly, however, when she said, "He doesn't even want to talk to me anymore."

More silence followed, this time more intense than the last.

Blaise glanced at his watch. "Shit." he muttered. Looking up, all three remaining pairs of eyes were focused on him. "It's past midnight, guys."

Hermione yawned, and the other two followed suit. Blaise stood up and Hermione didn't relent her grasp on his arm. When he looked at her, puzzled, she led him out of the room and asked, "Can I stay at your house?"

He was about to nod his head in agreeance, when he remembered the other person currently staying in the guest room. "Princess, I wish you could but you can't…. Someone else is staying there at the moment."

In sudden realization of _who _he was housing at the present time her face fell, and he watched as she changed from hopeful to crest-fallen in the space of a nano-second.

"Oh. Well, you better go then… I'll just go home and stay there." she said, walking back to the lounge area.

He was about to protest about her sleeping arrangements, but decided against it and followed dejectedly.

"Ginny, Harry. Thanks for your support, but I feel I need to have some time alone with my thoughts. I'll be going home now."

* * *

**Review? Smitty.**

* * *


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: **As per always, read previous ones, yeah?

**A/N: **A thousand pardons, ladies and (hopefully there are at least some) gentlemen, I was on camp for a while, and homework and life got in the way. You know how it is. Writer's block, ARGH. It shall be the death of me. Anywhoozelbees, let's continue.

Oh, and music will play an important part in this story, but it won't be that frequent. It will be mostly to show Hermione's feelings.

* * *

"_Ginny, Harry. Thanks for your support, but I feel I need to have some time alone with my thoughts. I'll be going home now." _

Hermione walked out of the room, shoulders slumped ungracefully and her feet shuffling.

Blaise was silent for a few moments until he said, "I'll take her back to her place, make sure she's okay…"

Ginny and Harry nodded sullenly, and stood up to escort Blaise to the door where Hermione stood waiting.

"Bye, love." Harry fare-welled, gripping her shoulders. "If you need us, we are here. You know that, right?"

Hermione nodded in the affirmative and hugged the two briefly before taking a deep breath and turning on the spot, Blaise holding her hand tightly.

* * *

They arrived with a loud snapping sound, which was then followed by the sound of smashing glass.

Hermione gasped, and Blaise wrapped an arm defensively around her petite waist and shushed her by placing a finger over her pink, rosy lips. He would later admit to himself that at the time, he was trying to ignore the small spasms of electricity that were racing through him, coming from both his arm and hand.

He instinctively pushed her behind him and inched his way towards the kitchen, where he was positively sure he had heard the smash echo from.

As he rounded the corner, his eyes widened at the sight of a tall, pale man with platinum blond hair sloppily cleaning up the remnants of what appeared to be a large bottle of wine, already empty. Making no sound, he retreated to where Hermione was now sitting, and mouthed for her to, "Stay where you are."

He crept back to the kitchen and snuck up behind the Malfoy heir. Placing a hand on his shoulder, Blaise barely flinched as the fairer of the two jumped and turned around swiftly, brandishing his wand between his eyes.

"Man, what are you doing? You're supposed to be at my house…" Blaise questioned after Draco had calmed enough to retract his wand.

"Woah, chillax. I came back to… to..." he stuttered. "Well, I don't really know."

It was then that Blaise noticed the slight, ever-so-insignificant slur that Draco was oblivious to.

"Well, regardless of what you came back here for," Blaise started, sparing one glance over his shoulder to keep a look-out for the confused brunette he had left in the lounge area, "you need to leave."

Draco sobered almost immediately. "Why on Earth should I do that?"

Before he could start into another rant, Blaise interrupted him smoothly. "Hermione."

Draco paled and glanced from left to right furiously. "She's here? Oh, _shit._ I have to get out of here…."

"You need to talk to her."

"Like hell I do. How do I talk to her _now? _It's so awkward. She probably hates me already." Draco pouted.

"Just do it, you pansy."

"Hey! Don't call me a pansy! It's not my fault I'm not in love with her." he winced at Blaise's sharp glare.

"Draco Abraxus Malfoy."

"That's my name, don't wear it out…" he said sarcastically.

"You have no idea how much pain that _woman,_" he stressed, "is going through."

"I've been through my fair share of heartbreak." Blaise raised an eyebrow. "Okay, well maybe I haven't. But I can imagine, can't I?"

Blaise thought of the one thing that could make him understand. "She cried."

Draco's face fell. Hermione had once told him that when she cried, she cried with everything she had. She told him that every time she cried a piece of her fell away with the tears and that only the worse pain in the world could make those little salty drop escape.

He had never, ever seen her cry.

"Shit."

* * *

Hermione could hear hushed voices from inside her kitchen and thought, _"Enough is enough. I am going in there, whether Blaise likes it or not. If someone dangerous is in there, he wouldn't be whispering with them, right?"_

The hushed voices grew fiercer, even though they remained at the same decibel.

She decided to take the safer option, just in case, and called out. "Blaise?"

Panic swelled throughout her body and settled in a giant lump in her throat when the hushed voices ceased altogether and there was still no answer.

She scrambled clumsily from where she sat and plodded swiftly toward the kitchen.

She turned the corner to find –

"What are you doing here?" she swallowed the thick lump of sadness that overcame her panic.

Draco whipped around to see her disheveled frame in the junction of the lounge and kitchen areas.

Only when she spoke did he realize that he hadn't replied. "Blaise. What is he doing here?"

"Okay, princess." he soothed, walking over to her and embracing her gently. "I don't know. Why don't we ask him, aye?"

She whispered into his ear, "Yeah, whatever. But as soon as I know, he gets _out of my house_." Her whisper turned malicious when she reached the last four words.

Blaise simply nodded and turned around to face the bewildered Draco Malfoy standing stock-still in front of them. "You never really answered me, what _are _you doing here, man?"

Draco's steely grey gaze wandered to the brunette standing beside his best friend. She caught his eyes for a few moments before tears glazed over her chocolate brown orbs and she looked down at her feet. His heart palpated for a second or two at the look of sheer depression on her beautiful feature, and he had no idea why.

"_I have to be as harsh as before, I have to." _he thought._"It would not be prudent to start feeling things right now."_

Looking back at the Italian, who was now looking at him with a questioning glint in his deep brown eyes, he responded, "I simply came back to make sure I had everything that was rightfully mine. Wouldn't want my things to be sullied by… filth."

Hermione gave a dry sob at his words, and escaped into her bedroom, fleeing up the stairs at what Draco thought could have been light-speed.

"You've really done it now, Draco." Blaise shook his head, disappointedly.

"Shut up, Blaise. What do I have to do to get her to still be my friend, but understand that I don't love her?" he panicked. "Do I be as harsh as I was to her before, or will that take it too far? Do I pretend I love her back, or will that just hurt her more when she figures out I don't? HELP ME BLAISE!"

"Well, I'm no feelings expert, so whatever you decide is up to you. But I'd just thought I'd let you know that Hermione wants you out of her house. Now."

* * *

Once Draco had left, Blaise trudged up the stairs to Hermione's room, only to find her in a curve-hugging red dress that fell just below the knees, with a black ribbon tied around the waist. His heart gave a few stutters and when she turned around, he felt it stop altogether. Well, not literally, but he imagined that it felt similar.

Her make-up was done flawlessly and her hair was tied up in a simple elegant chignon. She looked more beautiful than he had ever seen her before, and if he didn't know, he wouldn't have been able to tell that not half an hour ago she had been sobbing about a lost love.

"Why are you so dressed up?" he asked.

"I had a letter on my dresser from work. They want me to sing today." she responded absentmindedly, as she piled folder after folder of music into a bag that she then hung over her right shoulder. "You want to come?"

Blaise had an idea. "Sure… Just wait for me downstairs, yeah?"

Hermione nodded and walked out of the room. Blaise summoned his owl with two sharp whistles, then glanced quickly at his watch.

9:40. Wow, time flies when you are comforting a heart-broken girl.

While he waited for the bird to come, he scribbled down a quick note onto a spare bit of parchment he found lying around.

_Draco,_

_Hermione is singing today. She got an owl from her work. And yes, she knows it's a Sunday._

_If you turn up, this could be your chance to prove that you still value her friendship. _

_Don't screw this up, mate. _

_Blaise._

He looked up to find the bird perched on the ledge and tied the letter swiftly to it's spindly leg. "Take this to Draco Malfoy."

* * *

**Review? Pretty please? **

**Smitty x**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: **Sorry it took so long. I was mad swamped with homework. That chick who stole the cupcake knows what I mean.

* * *

_He looked up to find the bird perched on the ledge and tied the letter swiftly to its spindly leg. "Take this to Draco Malfoy."_

He sat on the edge of his bed, rubbing his face in his hands. The incessant tapping of the owl's talon pulled him from his thoughts and he rushed to the window.

Opening the folded parchment, he perused the words.

_I'll be there. Meet me in the pub across the road._

Short and sweet, as per usual. Blaise stuffed the parchment in his pants pocket and thumped down the stairs. Hermione was sitting on the sofa in the living room, staring vacantly at a spot on the cream-coloured wall.

He crossed the room in a few long strides, and squatted in front of the girl. She displayed no reaction to his close proximity until he waved a large hand back and forth in front of her eyes.

Her eyes widened in confusion, and she tilted her head to the side, smiling dreamily. "Oh, hello Blaise. What are you doing here?"

"Uh, Hermione," he said. "I am taking you to work."

"Fair enough…"

"Hermione… Princess, are you feeling okay?"

Her voice was airy, and bore striking similarities to how that Loony Lovegood chick they went to school with spoke.

"Oh, yes. I'm peachy keen, Blaise." she smiled. A few moments passed, Blaise staring at her incredulously and her staring obliviously back.

"Um, Hermione?" she nodded, and he continued. "I am going into the kitchen for a little while. You stay here, okay?"

"Of course." she responded.

He scurried into the kitchen and pulled out his mobile, calling the first person he could think of.

* * *

Harry was sitting on his comfortable couch when his mobile rang from where it was situated on his bedside table.

He jumped up, and raced into the dark room. After bumping into the wall twice and the bed posts once, he reached the bedside table and hobbled back into the light, unanswered phone in hand.

He clicked the small green button and held the phone up to his ear.

"Hey, Blaise…. Yeah, Caller ID, man." he snickered.

Blaise guffawed a bit and then said, "Look, I really need to tell you something."

"Hit me." Harry replied. "Wait. Is something wrong with Hermione? Is she okay?"

"Kind of. She is acting all strange, and she didn't remember why I was here when I came down the stairs."

"What do you mean? She was fine when she was over here." Harry stated, confused.

"That is what is confusing me."

Silence fell before Harry asked, "What happened when you got back to her place?"

"Well, Draco was there to 'make sure he had everything that was his' and then she went upstairs because she was upset." he continued. "I went up just as she was about to come down, and then she told me she had to work. I told her to meet me downstairs, and when she had gone, I sent a letter and waited for the reply. When it came, I went back downstairs and she was sitting on the couch, looking at a spot on the wall. She had this freaky glazed look in her eyes, it was kind of unnerving."

Then she asked me what I was doing there, and when I told her, all she said was 'Fair enough…' What the hell?"

* * *

Blaise could practically hear the cogs in Harry's head grinding. The lump of worry that had lodged itself in his throat grew impossibly larger, to the point where he was finding it hard to breathe. He spared a glance back into the room where Hermione was, and was relieved to see her smiling broadly at him. He calmed down a bit, but his heart raced at her glowing face.

"Blaise, I'm coming over, okay?"

"Yeah, sure."

The phone clicked as Harry hung up.

The bright green flames burnt furiously into life as Harry flooed into the living room. Hermione jumped, and clutched her hand to her heart. Blaise sauntered in from the kitchen just as Hermione walked up to Harry and said, "Hello, nice to meet you."

Harry looked at her, puzzled, and then turned to Blaise, who said, "What the hell?"

Harry turned back to the brunette, watching their exchange curiously. "Hermione, it's me."

"I'm sorry, but I don't know who you are… Have we met before?" Hermione shook her head.

"But you remember Blaise, yes?"

"Of course! He is one of my best friends! I could never forget one of the most important people in my life - that is horrible!"

"I wouldn't have a clue how someone could forget their best friend either…"

By this stage, Blaise had collapsed on the couch, muttering, "Oh my God…"

Harry tried to keep calm. "Anyway, my name is Harry. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Hermione shook his outstretched hand and said, "I'm Hermione Granger."

Blaise, who had been silent throughout the exchange, finally spoke up. "Take her to St Mungo's."

"I don't want to go to hospital."Hermione stubbornly retorted.

Harry thought for a moment. Then he had the most brilliant plan. It was almost like someone had turned on a lightbulb in his mind.

"Can I take you there to show you the new wing I donated?" Harry asked.

"Oh! You donated a wing? That's so wonderful; of course you can take me there to show me it!" Hermione exclaimed, bouncing on her toes with excitement.

"Greaaaaat," Blaise muttered. "I'll go ahead of you, shall I?"

Harry nodded, the two silently communicating the plan.

"Bye, Princess." Blaise said sadly, climbing into the fireplace. "I'll see you soon, okay?"

"Cheer up, Blaise. I'll be with Harry; he is your friend, right?"

Blaise nodded, threw some Floo powder into the fireplace and called out, "St Mungo's Hospital!"

* * *

As soon as Blaise landed in the fireplace of the hospital, he rushed to the receptionist and said, "My best friend is suffering from some memory loss, but doesn't want to come here for treatment. She doesn't remember her other best friend of I don't know how long, and we need a way to get her into a hospital bed without a giant fuss, capiche?"

The receptionist just nodded and scampered off to find a doctor or nurse. At this stage, Blaise's breathing patterns were erratic, so he took three deep breaths to regulate his inhalation and exhalation.

The nurse came back, accompanied by a young male doctor, whose badge identified him as "Doctor Joey Maxwells."

Blaise assumed the receptionist had told him their predicament, and was glad when the young man gave him a reassuring smile, because Hermione and Harry suddenly appeared in the fireplace in a flurry of soot and ash, Hermione smiling broadly all the while.

"Hermione, this is Dr Maxwells, Dr Joey Maxwells. He will be giving you the tour." Blaise introduced.

"It's nice to meet you, Dr Maxwells."

"It's lovely to meet you, Now, Hermione. If you will come with me we have to give you a quick examination before we send you in with the recovering patients in the new Potter wing."

Hermione acquiesced and followed the doctor into a room not too far away.

Blaise was studying Harry's face throughout the exchange between the Doctor and Hermione, and he noted that it was a confusing mixture of anxiety and apprehension.

"Potter, what's wrong with you?"

"That's Joey."

"Joey Maxwells, yeah, I know," Blaise said. "What does he have to do with anything?"

"What does he – Merlin! That is the Joey that Hermione fell in love with, you daft loser."

"But, she didn't recognize him… How come she doesn't recognize either of you, but recognizes me?"

"I couldn't say…"

Before he could say any more, Joey Maxwells poked his head out from a room down the hallway and said, "Could I get you two to come in here, please?"

The two raven-haired men walked to where the doctor was waiting.

"Now, we've managed to get her sedated with a Calming Draught, okay? What I really need to talk to you about is the curse that we detected."

Blaise, shock over-riding his inquisitive expression, whispered, "She's been cursed?"

Solemnly nodding, Joey continued. "It was a semi-permanent memory charm, which would explain her inability to recall Harry and myself."

"What curse is it? What does it do? How long does it take to wear off?" Questions spurted from Blaise like a tap, and Harry had to place a calming hand on the Italian's shoulder to stop his bombardment.

"It is a curse known as _Deleo Memoria Diligo._" Dr Maxwells attempted.

"How long will it last?" Blaise asked.

"We believe it will not be ever-lasting, however I think it will last for two to three months. _Minimum._"

"So Mione will have this memory loss for more than three months?" Harry questioned. "What will she forget? _Who _will she forget?"

"In a worst-case scenario, it will last for around eight to ten months, but hopefully that is not the case." He grimaced. "The spell translates, literally, into Erase Memory Love."

"What does that mean for Hermione?" Blaise asked, dreading the answer.

Joey hung his head. "It means she will forget anyone she has ever loved."

* * *

**Review? Smitty.**


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing.

**A/N: **Okay, so I haven't updated in a little while because school assignments took over the world. Well, my world anyway. And then, to make things worse, my computer's cord broke and then it went flat. So I have to use the family computer - which is too slow to comprehend.

Anyway, enjoy, I hope.

**PS. **This chapter is a little sad, for me at least. I can relate, you know? Most of you should be able to, I think… I'll let you continue… :)

* * *

Blaise sunk into the armchair beside the bed in which Hermione was placed in, and gazed forlornly at the angelic face lying peacefully on the crisp, white hospital sheets, her face surrounded by a large mass of chocolate brown curls. Out of all the thoughts racing through his tired and still confused mind, one prevailed through everything. _"She never loved me…"_

His lapse was forgotten when he felt the pressure of Harry's shaking hand on his shoulder.

"Dr Maxwells, what _kind _of love are we talking about here? Platonic or," Harry visibly gulped, "more than platonic?"

Blaise hadn't registered the fact that Hermione had forgotten Harry until then. Suddenly, Harry's shaking hands and nervous tone made sense. He was concerned because he didn't know whether Hermione had loved him romantically, and Blaise knew Harry well enough to understand that he would never forgive himself if he had hurt Hermione the way Draco had.

Dr Maxwells spoke confidently, but there was hint of sadness hidden underneath the smooth, calm tone and a gleam of worry and distress in his hazel eyes.

"This particular spell was intended to erase the more romantic, or _more than platonic, _as you put it." Harry sucked in a deep breath and tensed. "However, after we did some more tests we discovered traces of another kind of memory spell – one intended to erase periods of time, instead of people. Now, there have been a couple of cases here where the two spells have combined – not backfired – and people who were present during the memories the spell was intended to erase have been forgotten, somewhat unintentionally."

Harry breathed a long sigh of relief. "So, it is _completely _possible that Hermione never loved me in that way? As more than a friend – _best _friend, I mean?"

Joey nodded, and Blaise glanced at the doctor before asking the question that had been pressing on him since halfway through the doctor's explanation of Hermione's condition. "So, she could _never _have loved me? Not even a little bit more than a friend?"

Dr Maxwells shook his head solemnly. "Unfortunately not, Mr Zabini."

Blaise's heart sank to his toes and he coughed to cover up the whimper that threatened to escape his mouth. Calming his face into a mask of indifference that he had picked up from having Draco as a best friend, he sighed. "Phew, that's good. I don't think I could have handled another crazed, manic, psycho fan girl addition to the Zabini Love Club, know what I mean?" Blaise rambled, laughing nervously at different intervals and his voice betraying what emotions he felt underneath his calm exterior. As hard as he tried to make it seem even the slightest bit convincing, he knew that his attempts were weak and were fooling no-one, least of all himself.

"I'll, uh, leave you two with her, then…" Joey exited the room awkwardly, and shut the door behind him.

Silence ensued, and neither of the worried males seemed keen to break it. Harry, however, after a while, decided it was too much and said, "Blaise, there's no need to hide it."

Blaise released another nervous chuckle. "Hide what, Harry?" His voice took on a hint of hysteria. "I'm not hiding anything, nothing at all…"

Harry gave him a bemused, disbelieving and incredulous look, all in one subtle raise of the eyebrow and quirk of the lip. "I'm going to owl Malfoy."

When Blaise opened his mouth to protest, he interrupted by holding his hand up. "If she truly loved him, she won't even remember him. Besides, he is one of her best friends too, and he deserves to know as much as you and I."

Blaise nodded sullenly and Harry left in a similar manner to the doctor – quiet and somewhat sheepishly. The dark-haired Italian turned back to the girl sleeping silently, except for the quiet sounds of her regulated breathing, on the hospital bed and leaned over her to tuck an unruly curl behind her ear.

He retracted the slightest when she groaned quietly and shifted around in her sleep. He stared at the smattering of freckles spread over her nose and cheeks and kissed a particularly dark one on her right cheek.

He leaned back and dragged the armchair closer to the bed, so he could take her hand without feeling awkwardly stretched out.

Holding her delicate, small hand in his large, masculine one he realised just how small she was. Disregarding that thought, he leaned over so his mouth was near her ear.

"Hey, beautiful." He stopped for a few moments before speaking again, in a whisper. "I know you remember me, and I'm kind of sad that you do… Want to know why? Because it means you never loved me in _that _way, know what I mean?"

He ran a thumb over her cheek gently. "And I know you probably can't hear me, so I'm gonna say this only once, just to get it off my chest… Princess, I love you. And I know that if you were awake you would probably say, _I love you too, Blaise, _but for me it's different… I - I love you like you love Draco. And it hurts to know that you love him more than me, but I dealt with it, right? You haven't figured it out yet, and that's a good thing. Except, I can't help thinking to myself sometimes that it mightn't be such a great thing because maybe you would have loved me back if you knew… And it is probably never gonna happen, but I just had to say it. Just so I'd have told you at one point, even if you don't know it."

He sat there for a little while, blissfully unaware of the two men standing right outside the door with gobsmacked expression plastered ever-so-ungracefully on their faces.

* * *

The platinum blonde hadn't had any notions of Blaise's feelings before and felt incredibly guilty for stealing Hermione's affections from a man – his best friend – who probably deserved it, and who had earnt it more than he had. Harry gave a sidewards glance at Draco, who remained standing stock-still, staring at the two figures in the room, one life-less and the other hunched over next to the sleeping woman.

He – like Draco – had never comprehended the depth of Blaise's affections for Hermione, and felt tinges of guilt for bringing up Hermione's affections for Draco so often.

Both remained quiet for a little while, running through each and every sentence Blaise had said, picking at words to find different meanings, trying to figure out why neither of them had understood.

"We better go in…" Harry broke the silence that had dawned since the end of Blaise's confession.

"Uh, yeah. Okay." stammered Draco.

* * *

Blaise jumped slightly when the door opened with a click, and he released Hermione's hand quickly.

"Draco, mate! So Harry owled you, then?"

* * *

**Review, pretty please? Smitty. x**


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: **Another update, and I'm terribly sorry for the delay. My cord for my personal laptop is yet to have been fixed, so the family computer is all I have. This chapter may be a little shorter than others, but that's because it's almost midnight and my parental is giving me a time restriction. *singsong voice* Crappy chapteeeeeeeeeeeeeer.

On a much cheerier note, SCHOOOOOOOOOL'S OUT. Yep, I am now unofficially in Year 10. Watch out, world.

Enjoy, people.

Smitty, x.

* * *

_Blaise jumped slightly when the door opened with a click, and he released Hermione's hand quickly._

"_Draco, mate! So Harry owled you, then?"_

* * *

"Yeah…" Draco drawled, distracted by the girl draped in white sheets, slumbering peacefully.

Blaise shot Harry a worried glance when Draco stumbled shakily over to Hermione's side and took her petite, fragile hand in his large, calloused one.

Harry beckoned Blaise to his side. "We'll leave you two alone for a while."

Blaise looked ready to protest, but Harry conquered all chance of refusal with a stern shake of his head.

When Draco heard the door of Hermione's room click, he spoke softly, almost unsure of what to say. "Uh, hey, Mione… Harry owled me, but I guess that you know that, because I'm here…"

She stirred gently and her hand closed more tightly around his.

Draco continued, staring morosely at their entwined hands. "I know that if you were awake, you would hex me from here to Norway and back, but I was really worried because Harry didn't tell me what happened yet. That probably doesn't mean anything to you, but I still love you, in a way that constitutes nothing romantic. And I guess that's why you hate me… But I could never hate you."

* * *

Hermione's brain fuzzed slightly as she became more alert, her senses sharpening as she awoke.

She could feel something tight wrapped around her hand, and hear a faint voice saying something… But what? She tightened her grip on whatever it was, and tried vainly to allow some of her senses to regain strength.

The voice became stronger and louder with each syllable, and she just managed to catch the last part of the person's monologue. _"And I guess that's why you hate me… But I could never hate you."_

Her eyelids fluttered open gently and she looked at her hand, only to find a much larger, much paler one with its fingers laced with hers.

She followed the hand's contours to the attached arm, and continued until she reached the strikingly handsome face with soft-looking wisps of almost white hair adorning its crown.

Her brow furrowed. _How could she hate this man, whoever he was?_

"Uh, excuse me?" Her voice was raspy. "Who are you?"

The blond man jumped almost comically and wrenched his hand from hers.

"Hermione, I'm so sorry. I'll leave now if you want me to." He stammered unattractively.

"Hey, wait! How do you know who I am?" Hermione started, just as he reached for the handle of the door.

He turned around, a puzzled expression on his face. "Hermione, what are you talking about?"

She was getting rather miffed now and sat up on the bed, as if preparing to battle the stranger. Loudly, she said, "This! How do you know my name? I have _never met you before._"

* * *

Blaise and Harry heard a rather loud shout come from Hermione's room, and without more than a sideways glances at the other, took off at sprint down the hospital halls, despite the mutterings and indignant cries of those they pushed, shoved or elbowed out of the way.

They flung open the door, revealing a red –faced Hermione and a shocked Draco.

Blaise surveyed the pair before turning to Harry. "You didn't tell him, did you? You didn't tell him the whole story."

Realization dawned on Harry, and he silently reprimanded himself. Hermione decided that this would be a good time to ask what was plaguing her mind. "Can I ask, who is he and why does he know my name? And why, when I woke up, was he holding my hand and telling me that even though I hated him, he could never hate me?"

Stunned silence met her tirade of queries. "Well?"

Blaise and Harry communicated yet another plan through nothing more than a nod and eyebrow raise. Harry dragged Draco outside to explain why Hermione no longer remembered him, and Blaise remained behind to fill in Hermione.

"Mione, Draco is my best friend."

"But I'm your best friend…" she pouted childishly.

"Yes, you are. But he is my other best friend."

"Then why haven't I met him before? And why does he think I hate him?" Damn. Blaise hadn't thought about how to dodge that bullet when it came.

"Um…" he stalled. "He just got back from… France! He just got back from France." He avoided the last question on purpose.

"Oh, _wow. _So he can speak French?"

"Uh, yeah…?"

"Can you get him in here? I want to hear it, I love a French accent on a man." She said, a sultry tone seeping through on the last part.

_No, no, no, no, no. Not happening. _"Sure, Mione. Let me get him now."

As Blaise walked through the door, he could hear frantic whispering from around the corner and looked to find Draco gesturing wildly towards Hermione's room and then back towards himself.

"I deserve to know _everything_, no matter what, Potter."

"You broke her heart, and now she won't remember you." Harry replied calmly, despite the raging lunatic towering over him.

When Draco stooped lower to hiss at Harry, Blaise decided it was time to intervene.

He walked over to them and, clapping Draco on the back, he said merrily, "Draco, my mate. You know French, right? _Please, say you know French._"

"Uh, yeah, I know French. Mother made me take lessons during school. Why?"

"Great! Right this way." Blaise steered the once again confused blonde to Hermione's room. "She loves a French accent on a man. Now, go. Speak, Frenchie. Be a gentleman. Woo her – wait, no don't. She's incapacitated. That could be dangerous."

Draco nodded. He then pushed open the door, walked to her bedside, kissed her knuckles gently and said with a perfectly fluent French accent, "Bonjour, mademoiselle."

Hermione giggled, and both Harry and Blaise cringed in horror at the love struck look that had taken residence on her face.

* * *

Hermione's heart pounded dramatically in her chest.

This man was Perfect. Let me repeat: _Perfect. _Spelt with a capital P, because he was just that Perfect.

He was gorgeous, an utterly flawless gentleman with utterly flawless manners, had lived overseas for goodness knows how long, _and _spoke French fluently. Plus, there was something strangely familiar about him, even though she didn't know him from a bar of soap.

"_Yes," _she thought, as she studied his face, _"I can definitely see myself falling in love with this man."_

_

* * *

_

**Review, please. I need the help. x**


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: **Me no owny.

**A/N: **Ah, my first chapter as a fourteen-year-old. Sorry for the delay, birthdays and holiday outings distracted me. Also, I lost my muse for a while… But I got a little inspiration and managed to squeeze out this chapter.

Please, be aware that this has jumped forward a bit in time, and Hermione is in the last stretches of her memory loss, so she will be getting a big, horrifying, shocking flashback in this chapter. It's not that dramatic, really.

**Smitty, x**

* * *

_He was gorgeous, an utterly flawless gentleman with utterly flawless manners, had lived overseas for goodness knows how long, __and __spoke French fluently. Plus, there was something strangely familiar about him, even though she didn't know him from a bar of soap._

"_Yes," __she thought, as she studied his face, __"I can definitely see myself falling in love with this man."_

* * *

Since that first meeting with Draco Malfoy in the hospital ward, Hermione had found him to unknowingly fulfill every requirement she had for her dream man.

Charming: _Check._

Witty: _Check._

Smart:_ Check._

Attractive: _Check. Check times infinity. _

While she was in St Mungo's (she had a hissy fit at Blaise for putting her in there and not telling her why - after her sedatives had worn off, of course), Draco had visited at least three times a week. Each time, she felt herself growing more and more attached to him and there was something about him… something she couldn't quite put her finger on. She almost felt as if she had known him in a past life.

Yep, that's how much she had grown to adore him.

She was released a week or two after she was admitted into the hospital, and returned to her house. She had questioned its emptiness – it seemed like there was something – or a few things – missing. It didn't quite feel like home. Draco had looked suspiciously guilty when she voiced her concerns, and Blaise had obviously steered the conversation away on purpose after a few moments of intense, awkward silence.

Slowly, Draco's visits had dwindled, though, and she did not know why… Although, she had a suspicious feeling that it was related to his monologue in the hospital room on the day of her admittance.

Hermione tucked her legs under her frame absent-mindedly as she flipped the page of her new book over. As engrossed as she was in the chapter on the magical properties of wormwood and Bubotuber pus when combined, she didn't notice the dark man push open her front door and whip his head around anxiously in search of her.

She felt a gentle hand place itself on her shoulder, and she looked into the indigo eyes of her best friend.

"Yes, Blaise?" she said calmly, displaying no obvious signs of shock that this man had entered into her house without her knowledge.

"Can I get you to drink this for me?" He pulled out a small vial of shiny, metallic blue and silver liquid from his jacket pocket and held it precariously between his thumb and third finger.

Hermione eyed the vial suspiciously and asked, "What is it?"

"It's a, um… It's a visual projection potion."

"A visual projection potion? I've never heard of that kind of potion before…" Hermione mused.

"Oh, yeah. The blokes at work are trying to make a concoction that will help with the memory extraction of criminals. This one should project chosen memories into the air, so everyone can see them. Legilimency just doesn't work when you need to give evidence in front of the whole Wizengamot." Blaise couldn't believe the lies that were flowing so easily from his mouth, but Hermione obviously did, because she yanked the potion from his hand and downed it in one go.

They waited for a while.

Then a little while longer.

And a little while longer after that.

Suddenly Hermione said, "Blaise, I don't think it works."

Blaise hummed thoughtfully and said, "Oh well, back to the cauldron then, aye? I've got to go tell the boys, so I'll see you later, yeah? Bye, Mione."

"Bye." Hermione farewelled, returning to her book.

* * *

"Did you give it to her? The memory potion?" The raven-haired man questioned.

"Of course I did. I wouldn't be back here otherwise, you nitwit." Blaise countered.

"Good." Draco said from the shadows. "The nurse said that she should start remembering things spasmodically after she drinks it. I need her to remember, because whether she likes it or not, she needs to be there when I propose to Astoria. She mightn't see it this way, but she is still one of my best friends. I _will not_ exempt her from that event, no matter how much she hates me at the time._ I need her there._" Draco didn't know why he added the last sentence.

Both of the other men nodded in agreeance.

* * *

Hermione placed her book down on the lounge beside her, and placed a hand to her forehead. She felt rather faint, and her forehead was unusually warm…

_I might lie down for a while, _she thought as she reclined. _I might feel a little better. _

Suddenly, her vision began to blur violently, and her stomach began to contract viciously. The pain was almost excruciating, but sudden relief came when the spasms stopped.

Soon after, images began to flood her mind and surroundings, which she found rather distressing in itself. Images of a platinum blonde boy with a sneer on his perfect features appeared everywhere around her. She couldn't help but think that he bore a striking resemblance to Draco… The same boy mouthing the word "Mudblood" across the Potions classroom… and the grown-up version of that little boy, holding her steady after she had run into him on the street.

Suddenly, the image swirled into black wisps of nothingness around her and a new image took shape from the darkness.

It was Draco, sitting on the lounge with tear tracks on his face, being comforted by a small brunette woman. Who was she?

Jealousy flared through Hermione until the woman turned around. It was her… _She _was the one comforting him.

She couldn't remember this… This couldn't be a memory of her own.

Sighing to herself, she tried to focus on the memory, and succeeded in time to hear Draco say, "_I can't do this._"

"_You can't do what, Draco?" _Her memory self questioned._ "I don't understand."_

She was suddenly thankful for her inquisitive nature, because Hermione didn't understand either.

"_This arrangement. I can't do it anymore." _Memory-Draco whispered, so softly that it was near impossible to hear.

Memory-Hermione looked disappointed and confused for a while._ "What arrangement? Are you talking about Astoria?"_

Who in Merlin's name was _Astoria_?

"_This," - _she watched as he wagged his finger between them -_ "This arrangement. It's not working."_

Memory-Hermione's expression turned from confusion to rage in a split-second. _"Draco Abraxus Malfoy. If you are going to pull this shit," _- his eyes widened, and Hermione almost laughed at how comical it looked, but her doppelganger continued before she could - _"with me now – after __two years __of living together in perfect harmony, then you have got __another damn thing coming.__"_

Hermione was shocked at her own brazenness and lack of composure, except she had no time to contemplate the lapse in character, before Draco retaliated.

"_Look, Granger," _– she flinched in synchronization with her memory-self, she had never heard or seen Draco act that way before - _"I don't want to live here anymore. I have much better things to do with my life than just going to work, picking your lazy ass up from work and then coming back to this dump to sleep the night before getting up and doing it all again. Okay?"_

She saw herself sink awkwardly onto the lounge she was on only moments ago, and croak, _"I can't believe this."_

Memory-Draco reached out a hand shakily, before retracting it and hissing, _"I'll be gone by the morning. Mudblood."_

It almost seemed as if he was inclined to comfort her. That confused her immensely.

"_If that is what you want."_ She observed her memory counterpart contain her emotions unsteadily, while Draco's memory counterpart fled upstairs stiffly.

Anger and rage bubbled inside her as she watched herself stare blankly at the wall. How dare he be so rude to her? Her heart broke with every second that passed, and every thud she heard from above her shattered those pieces into shard the size of pinheads. It was Draco packing his belongings, no doubt.

How could he be her dream husband, partner, _whatever, _when he had so blatantly shut her down and cut her out of his life so easily?

_Well, _thought Hermione, _It won't happen again. I am never ever speaking to that man again. _

Somewhere in the back of her fury-controlled mind, she wondered: _Why don't I remember any of this? _But she didn't think to find the answer to that because Memory-Hermione had lost her staring contest with the wall and was gazing at the foot of the stairs.

Her anger dissipated slightly when she saw Draco had reappeared and was opening his mouth to say something.

However, before she could hear what he had to say, she felt a sharp pull between her eyes, and found herself gazing into the icy blue eyes of the man who she had just witnessed break her own heart.

The man she could no longer refer to as _her dream man. _

* * *

**Reviewwwww? Smitty, x.**


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing.

**A/N: **Okay, so I bet you all hate me, yes? Well, I do, too. Not really, but I am kind of mad at myself for not updating in yonks. As I said in the author's note of The Pretender (yes, I am shamelessly plugging my own story) I am running out of ammo for this story. It is not going where I originally wanted it to, so I am really just writing whatever comes to mind.

Which is why I'm updating. I have had a sudden burst of inspiration and have been writing non-stop since about 11:00. 'Nuff said.

If you haven't given up on me just yet, I love you.

Smitty.

* * *

_However, before she could hear what he had to say, she felt a sharp pull between her eyes, and found herself gazing into the icy blue eyes of the man who she had just witnessed break her own heart._

_The man she could no longer refer to as __her dream man. _

Her voice was raspy when she finally spoke. "D-Draco?"

He sat down beside her and nodded, afraid to speak. Her eyes were blazing with what he interpreted as fury. Surely, she hadn't remembered _everything_ already.

She cleared her throat and stood up; disregarding the dizzy spell she suffered and walked past the ottoman to pace in front of the fireplace.

"Draco Abraxus Malfoy," She said angrily. "Would you care to explain what just happened to me, and whether or not it has something to do with the potion Blaise administered me this afternoon?"

He gulped. "Why – Why do you want to know whether Blaise was involved?"

"So I will know how many times I will have to wash my castration devices." She stated simply. He self-consciously crossed his legs. He didn't know what to say, she was so unpredictable – she could erupt with molten fury at any time.

"Uh, well…"

"Spit it out, or so help me Merlin, I will Avada you right now." Instantly, almost as if she had apparated right in front of him, she had her wand at his throat, digging it into his Adam's apple.

"It was Blaise, Harry and I." He blurted.

She dug the stick of wood deeper into his flesh, but not enough to do any damage. "And where are the other two now?"

"In the alleyway behind the house."

Before he could say anymore, she had stormed out the door and he had to chase after her to stop any murders… or castrations. He shuddered.

* * *

By the time he caught up with her, she was standing in front of the two dark-haired men – who both had similar looks of alarm and shame on their rather handsome faces.

"Harry," she had already started. "You were my best friend for god-knows-how-many years. How could you do this to me? How could you keep something like that from me, regardless of my situation – memory loss or not?"

Harry went to speak, but she raised her left hand and cut him off. Draco stood a little ways behind her, watching the scene unfold. She glared one last time at Harry before addressing Blaise. "Blaise, we love each other." She didn't know the truth of that statement. Blaise felt his chest contract. "How could _you_? You promised me that we would _never _keep secrets from one another. I – I can't even comprehend that you, of all people, wouldn't tell me…"

Hermione turned to face Draco. Damn, he had hoped she hadn't known he was there. "And you! How could you say something like that to me? I didn't think you would ever, ever, _ever _say something so horrible and hurtful to me – or anybody else, for that matter! You promised me a long time ago that you wouldn't use that word against anyone, and I trusted you. Never again."

She then stormed from the alleyway.

_Fuck. _Each man's thought seemed synchronized with the others.

Blaise finally spoke, but found it hard because his chest was still sore. "What do we do?"

Draco retaliated. "What can we do? I doubt she'll want to speak to any of us for a long time to come."

Harry spoke what was all on their minds. "How could we keep something like that from her? We were all told by Ginny, Mrs Weasley, the twins, Bill, Charlie, Draco's mother and father and even Pansy to tell her about the memory charm. But we didn't listen… And now, I'd bet that she hates us. _And _we haven't even figured out who hexed her in the first place."

Blaise felt a heart-wrenching pang in his chest but this one lingered, and he clasped his shirt tightly.

"Woah, Blaise, buddy." Draco said. "Are you alright?"

The feelings intensified and he could barely gather enough strength to shake his head. His vision swam and he fell to the ground.

"Shit! Harry, get Ginny to go to the hospital and make sure that she calls his parents to let them know he's going in."

Harry nodded and made to run to the nearest phone booth, but reconsidered. "Do I tell Hermione?"

"She has a lot on her plate, and I know we shouldn't be hiding things from her, but it would only stress her more than necessary."

Harry nodded again and fled the alley. Draco held on tightly to Blaise and apparated to the emergency room of St Mungo's. He really didn't want to be here, it brought back strange deja-vu-like feelings, and he didn't like it at all.

* * *

Three assistant nurses raced over to the two, lying on the emergency room floor. They asked no questions upon seeing Blaise's face contorted in agony, and simple levitated him swiftly but carefully into the nearest bed available.

Draco sat anxiously by his bedside until Ginny and Harry arrived. Ginny immediately turned on him and stampeded him with a thousand questions, tears shining in her blue eyes. "Is he going to be okay?" – was the first question she asked.

"I don't know, Ginny. The doctor is on his way now."

She seated herself next to her soon-to-be husband and rested her head on his shoulder. The door opened almost immediately after Ginny had sat down.

"Doctor Maxwells, thank goodness." Harry breathed. "Blaise… he collapsed. Said he was having chest pains…"

The doctor brandished his wand and waved it multiple times in complex and intricate movements over Blaise's chest. The area around his heart glow a bright red for a few seconds before dimming to a dull glow. The doctor stood silently next to Blaise's bedside, and didn't seem to notice the three people staring at him. Suddenly, the bright red light appeared again, consuming Blaise's entire body.

"Hey!" Draco shouted. "What do you think you are doing to my best friend?"

"Mr Malfoy, calm down." Joey Maxwells soothed. "It is a simple diagnostic spell, I assure you."

Draco re-seated himself and watched on. The light dimmed again, but this time wisps of orange and green seemed to seep from Blaise's chest. The smoky trails began to form words and numbers, which the doctor read, sadness slowly marring his features.

"Oh, my…" Joey mumbled. Then louder, he said, "Is it only you three who should be here?"

Ginny spoke first. "Well, Hermione should be here… and Pansy. Oh, and his parents…"

"Could you get them here now?" He went into professional mode. "I need to discuss something with you all…"

* * *

**Review...? Pretty please, with a cherry on top?**


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